


Posthaste

by Al_Blue



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Bottom Geralt, Comeplay, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 14:24:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13766043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Al_Blue/pseuds/Al_Blue
Summary: The Witcher is in Vizima, he and the Emperor fuck against a desk.





	Posthaste

"If the gentleman would wait while I announce - "  
  
Mererid calls and all but runs in front of Geralt as he slams open the door to the Emperor's study.  
  
As if the commotion did not startle him, the Emperor raises an eyebrow at the two men at his door, a pen in hand paused above the letter he had been writing.  
  
"Your Majesty." The chamberlain, purple in the face, bows in a rush, "Sir Geralt – he insisted to see you posthaste. I informed him that the Lord - "  
  
Emhyr raises a hand, and chamberlain silences at the gesture, "It's alright Mererid. I am certain the Witcher has a good reason. You may leave, and announce the Lord and Lady Voorhis when they arrive."  
  
The chamberlain bows formally and with a hard look at Geralt, who returns his scowl, leaves the chamber and closes the door behind him.  
  
The Witcher stands rooted near the entrance and re-directs his scowl at the Emperor. Emhyr remains seated with a rare smile playing at the corner of his lips, observing the White Wolf.  
  
The Witcher's white shoulder-length hair is down, tussled enough that one would deem inadequate for polite company, and even disrespectful at an audience with the Emperor. The long tunic he wears is askew with the top buttons undone. The Emperor notes with particular interest that he does not seem to be wearing any trousers underneath, or perhaps not even any underwear judging by the way the tunic clings to his thighs.  
  
"Come here, Witcher." The Emperor says, his voice quietly reverberates in the small room.  
  
"You - " The Witcher grits his teeth, "Ya left me bound there for...it's nearly sundown now, and that's all you've got to say?"  
  
In spite of his protest, Geralt steps closer to where the Emperor remains seated still. There is a stiffness in his gait, and even the short five steps has already gotten him red in the face.  
  
"Are you just not wearing any trousers, Witcher, or have you got on nothing at all underneath?" Emhyr licks his lips, and reaches out to take the Witcher's hands.  
  
Geralt allows himself be pulled closer, and lets out a grunt at the feel of callused fingers sliding up his thighs.  
  
The Emperor lets out a sharp breath when he touches a mess of sticky wetness halfway up on the Witcher's toned thighs. The pre-come dripping from the semi-erect cock under the tunic continues to add to the mess.  
  
As his hands grip the flesh to pull the Witcher even closer, the man's cock quickly stiffens, becoming still more red and deliciously veiny.  
  
"Have I succeeded in keeping myself on your mind this entire afternoon then, Witcher?" Emhyr chuckles. Taking his hands off of Geralt briefly to unbutton his black outer coat, and then his own breeches.  
  
"Fuck you. I wouldn't have if you didn't - " The Witcher growls, but quiets abruptly as he watches the Emperor takes out his fully hard cock, thick and long and already glistening with pre-come at the tip.  
  
For a moment, Geralt marvels at how Emhyr's hard cock somehow manages to not look out of place against the rest of his royal attire, jutting out from the rich black leather and red velvet.

As if in a trance, he drops to his knees and nuzzles close to the dark musky scent of the Emperor's arousal. Glassy eyes flickers up for permission, and at the Emperor's nod, Geralt takes the length in his mouth and moans at the delicious thickness.  
  
Emhyr takes a few deep breaths as the Witcher goes to licking and sucking his cock, wetly, and moaning while he works it in deep in his throat and gags.  
  
He slides a hand into the Witcher's white locks, and pulls with shaking fingers, "You wouldn't have if I didn't what, Witcher?"  
  
"Hmm?" The man stills and looks up, letting the Emperor's cock pop out of his red and sex-swollen lips.  
  
"You said," Emhyr takes another deep breath before continuing, "You wouldn't have thought of me the entire afternoon if I didn't. If I didn't do what?"  
  
The Witcher laughs hoarsely and stands, leaning a hip against the large mahogany desk. He takes the Emperor's hand and guides it to his naked behind. Where his hole is, a warm flat-bottomed glass plug sits flush inside.  
  
"You - " Emhyr breathes, suddenly even more turned on than he was a moment ago, "You kept it in all this time."  
  
The Witcher wipes his lips with his free hand, and shoves at the other man, "You left it in! Knowing that it's too small for pleasure but too big to not be felt the entire time! You bastard."  
  
The Emperor stands, pulling the Witcher into a hard kiss to silence his complains, licking into the mouth that tastes of his cock.  
  
“Turn around.” He says.  
  
The Witcher turns without a word of protest, groaning and grinding his plug-filled ass against Emhyr's cock.  
  
“How much do you wish for my cock now?” The Emperor whispers harshly; pushing up the Witcher's tunic, he reaches down between their bodies to palm Geralt's ass and nudge the plug in and out again.  
  
The Witcher writhes, his breaths coming in sharp bursts, “Fuck you Emhyr. Fucking whoreson. Fuck me now. Fuck...please.”  
  
Emhyr does not need to asked twice. He gently tugs out the glass phallus, and pushes in two of his fingers. The Witcher's hole is already stretched and takes them easily.  
  
Geralt pushes down against the long fingers immediately, moaning as he starts to fuck himself on them.  
  
“Patience, Geralt.” Emhyr rubs a hand down the Witcher's clothed back, “There is – you should be stretched enough, but without more oil this might still hurt.”  
  
The Witcher grunts and curses some more, “Fuck you! It's fine, I'm fine. Your cock! Please, Your Majesty.”  
  
“Such insolence.” Emhyr hisses in Geralt's ear before lining up his cock to the Witcher's hole. He pushes in slowly, pausing and pulling out a hair at every gasp from his lover's lips.  
  
Before long, he bottoms out, and Geralt whines high in his throat. His breaths only coming in gasps, as if he is being tortured.  
  
Emhyr pulls out near all the way, and rocks his whole body forward into Geralt, who moans loudly and pushes back. Having been in a constant state of arousal all afternoon, Geralt can already feel the wave of his orgasm nearing. It doesn't help when Emhyr begins to fuck him in earnest, slowly, steadily, and repeatedly striking the spot inside that sends shocks up and down his body.  
  
When Emhyr reaches down to touch his cock, firm hand gripping and tugging twice, Geralt comes. Orgasmic shocks hitting him again and again as he gasps and sobs, his cock leaking all over Emhyr's desk and on his own tunic.  
  
The Emperor pauses while Geralt catches his breath, still rock hard and buried tight within him. Geralt rocks back again, “More. I want to feel you come inside me.”  
  
Emhyr hisses at the words, snapping his hips back and fucks in again hard. Geralt lets out another groan, echoing loudly in the room. At the encouragement, Emhyr grips the scarred and slim hips, and fucks the Witcher's hole in deep and fast bursts, slamming the man into the desk with every thrust.

Geralt moans as the thickening cock inside continues to assault his prostate, he clenches his hole and turns to whisper, “Come inside me – my lord. Like you did this morning. Your hot seed leaking down my legs. For the rest of the day.”  
  
“Geralt.” Emhyr gasps, biting at the Witcher's shoulder as he came, pulsing and shooting all he has into Geralt's guts.  
  
Bracing his arms on the desk as his lover spent himself, Geralt laughs and turns to kiss his lips, “Next time, we need to do go back and do this on a bed. I ache all over.”  
  
Emhyr chuckles breathlessly against Geralt's lips. Lingering in the kiss, he teases, “You are just getting old, Witcher.”  
  
“I am older than you, Your Young Majesty.” Geralt retorts.

Nudging the Emperor back away from him, Geralt tries gingerly to untangle.  
  
Emhyr's cock pulls out with a soft pop and a wet string of come, and Geralt feels a rush of hot come threatening to gush out of his fucked-loose hole.  
  
“Huh.” As if noticing the same, Emhyr reaches down to touch Geralt's hole, dipping a finger inside. He looks up to catch the Witcher's gaze, and asks, “How will you walk back to our quarters, Geralt? With my come leaking down your thighs for all of the court to see?”  
  
As if on cue, both their eyes flicker to the glass plug, still sitting innocently atop the Emperor's papers.  
  
Geralt groans as Emhyr picks up the object.

"There, there." He whispers.

Kissing Geralt's sweat-covered neck, he works the glass phallus gently but easily back into his lover's yielding hole.


End file.
